MOI
by Fayth3
Summary: Response to Scene Stealing challenge on WIKTT. Agent Hermione Granger gets introduced to her new assignemnt and partner.


**A/n- Story is a response to the Scene stealing challenge on WIKTT.**

**Disclaimer- Agent JK Rowling and Agent Chris Carter own things... It's probably a conspiracy.**

**

* * *

M.O.I. BY Fayth**

Hermione Granger walked down the bright corridor, nodding to those she recognised, trying to calm her fragile nerves.

She knew that she had a right to be nervous; after all, it wasn't every day that she was summoned to the Department Head of Magic's office.

She could feel her palms dampen even as she strode down the hallway with more confidence than she felt. She plastered her usual bright beaming smile to her face, and hoped that what little make-up she wore would compensate for how pale she knew she was.

Her tailored suit was more Muggle than Magical, but she had chosen practicality and comfort over conventionality, and hoped that it wouldn't count against her when she stood in front of the Purebloods who ran the department.

As she pushed open a glass set of double doors, she shored up all of her determination and courage to face whatever lay ahead.

Walking into the outer office of one of the most influential persons within the Ministry of Investigation, she took a few seconds to look around, noting the elaborate décor and transfigured furniture that littered the waiting room. To her right was a huge set of bay windows that looked out onto Muggle London, and to her left was a large desk with a bored looking receptionist filing her nails.

She took a deep breath and approached the lady. "Agent Hermione Granger."

The woman gave her a quick look over, her eyes lingering on the carefully rolled chignon that Hermione had managed to tame her unruly hair into, and nodded to the door at the far end of the hall.

Hermione straightened, resisting the urge to pat her hair one last time, and walked over, knocking on the door loudly.

"Come in," a deep voice echoed from within and she pushed open the door.

"Agent Granger, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please…"

He gestured at the seat in front of his desk and Hermione took it noticing that there were two other men in the room.

The Department Head, Agent Socrates Blevins, was a short balding man on the wrong side of fifty, with a stern look about him. He didn't introduce his two associates, but Hermione took their details in as quickly as she could in case it was a test of her observational skills.

The taller man standing in shadow by the covered windows, was illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette; an oddly Muggle habit that seemed incongruous in this office dedicated to the advancement of Wizard-kind. She could tell that he was very tall and thin with black robes and dark hair, but the rest of him was shrouded in darkness.

The other man was just another nondescript Ministry face; silver-haired with an aged face and growing paunch.

Agent Blevins flipped open a file in front of him and scanned it. "We see you've been with us just over two years?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said.

"You went to medical school to become a Medi-Witch, but you chose not to practice. How'd you come to work for the Ministry of Investigation?"

It was a question many of her friends had asked her. It was one thing to want to be a Medi-witch, a notable profession, but quite another to join in one of the Ministry's oldest enterprises: the Ministry of Investigation. It had been started way back when Nicholas Flamel still was at school and a man by the name of J.E. Vortex had decided that there needed to be a place where evidence would be poured over and investigation into crimes would be deep and meaningful, hopefully culminating in elucidation. He envisioned a crime-fighting force that would go beyond the realms of Aurors and Unspeakables. The Ministry of Investigation, or M.O.I, was born, and it had utmost jurisdiction on all crimes committed.

Only the very best were accepted into its hallowed halls and Hermione, with her grades and her experience, had ensured that she was one of them.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, sir. I was recruited out of medical school. Um, my parents still think it was an act of rebellion—they are in the medical profession themselves—but I saw the M.O.I. as a place where I could distinguish myself."

The nameless man nodded briefly. "Are you familiar with an agent named Severus Snape?"

"Yes, I am." Hermione managed to mask her surprise and unease as the two nameless men exchanged glances.

"How so?" he asked carefully.

Hermione took another calming breath. "By reputation. He's a Durmstrang-educated Potions Master who worked extensively with both Nicholas Flamel and Albus Dumbledore. He wrote a monograph on hidden Potions and the serial killer, which helped to catch Terry Boot in 1988. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section." She wondered whether to add the last part- her sense of humour did get the best of her at times- but decided to go ahead. "He had a nickname at the academy… Spooky Snape."

She tried smiling at the Cigarette-Smoking man in the corner, who didn't respond, making her feel lightly foolish. She turned her attention back to Agent Blevins.

"What I'll also tell you is that Agent Snape has developed a consuming devotion to an unassigned project outside the Ministry mainstream. Are you familiar with the so-called 'U-reports'?"

Hermione blinked. "I believe they have to do with unexplained, unusual or unlikely phenomenon?"

"More or less. The reason you're here, Agent Granger, is because we want you to assist Snape on these U-reports. You will write field reports on your activities, along with your observations on the validity of the work."

She watched as the Cigarette-Smoking man stubbed out his cigarette, leaving a faint mist hovering above the desk. She felt decidedly odd about this.

"Am I to understand that you want me to discredit the U-reports project, sir?"

Agent Blevins rested his hands on top of her file briefly before handing Hermione her new assignment case file. "Agent Granger, we trust you'll make the proper scientific analysis. You'll want to contact Agent Snape shortly. We look forward to seeing your reports."

_I'll bet_, Hermione thought as she nodded, took the file, and walked out.

It wasn't that she was not looking forward to working with someone who was generally considered one of the best in his field; what she was concerned about were the other rumours that abounded about the man- his temper for one, his unquenchable thirst for truth another, and, of course, the fact that most said he was barking mad.

Having had his sister abducted by Death Eaters when he was young, he regarded everything as a governmental conspiracy and, some said, he believed in the existence of aliens.

Elves- yes, fairies- yes, werewolves and vampires- a given. But aliens?

The elevator rang loudly as it went down past Financial Finagles and Monetary Misdemeanours, past Transport Travesties and Apparition Anomalies even past Malicious Murders and Suspicious Serials; down to the basement.

The bell rang again and Hermione stepped out, taking stock of this underground part of the Ministry, where the old files were stored and ignored and the dust bunnies formed plots to take over the world.

She walked down to the end of the dreary corridor and knocked on the heavy wooden door.

"Sorry, nobody down here but the M.O.I.'s most unwanted."

Hermione felt her lips try to curve at the unconventional greeting, even as the deep timbre of the voice gave her shivers.

She pushed open the door and walked in, her eyes immediately arrested by the sheer volume of…of… stuff that littered every surface. There were papers on top of papers and posters with post-it notes attached, inter-departmental memo's crushed under case files, and charmed items galore.

In one corner was a make-shift potions lab with a dark head bent over it.

She smiled and held out her hand. "Agent Snape. I'm Hermione Granger, I've been assigned to work with you."

He turned and shook her hand briefly, giving her the same once-over that she was giving him.

He was tall, much taller than she had imagined, and so much cleaner. He had silky black hair that trailed over his shoulder and an aquiline nose. His piercing black eyes examined her thoroughly, as if cataloguing her away.

He placed his stirring rod down and cast a stasis charm over the concoction.

"Oh, isn't it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded? So, who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Granger?"

She blinked. That was a tad more acerbic than she had expected. Not to be outdone, she smiled.

"Actually, I'm looking forward to working with you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh really?" he said, arching one eyebrow. "I was under the impression... that you were sent to spy on me."

Hermione bristled at his condescending attitude. "If you have any doubt about my qualifications or credentials, th..."

Before she could finish he swept away and picked up a file from his cluttered desk. "You're a Medi-witch, you teach at the Ministry's academy. You did your undergraduate degree in potions. Flamel's Elixir of life, A New Interpretation. Hermione Granger; Senior Thesis. Now that's a credential, rewriting Flamel."

Feeling every bit the young student she attempted to gather her courage.

"Did you bother to read it?" she inquired icily.

"I did," he admitted. "I liked it. It's just that in most of my work, the laws of Potions and Arithmancy rarely seems to apply."

He wandered over to a blank wall and twitched his wand at it. "Maybe I can get your medical opinion on this though, Miss Granger."

The wizarding photograph that manifested itself on the white wall was of a young girl, obviously dead, in her nightclothes on the ground.

"Female from Hogsmeade, age twenty-one, no explainable cause of death. Autopsy shows nothing." He twitched his wand and the picture changed to a small section of the victim's body with two bumps. "There are, however, these two distinct marks on her lower back. Doctor Granger, can you identify these marks?"

Hermione looked at the picture curiously. "Needle punctures, maybe. An animal bite. Maybe even a fungal hex or Furnunculus, advanced of course."

He hummed lightly. "How's your Herbology?" He changed the image to a complex run down of herbs and molecules. "This is the substance we found in the surrounding tissue."

Whilst staring at the wall, Hermione was absently noting the fact that Ministry of Investigation seemed far more willing to utilise Muggle techniques like microscopes and DNA fingerprinting than the rest of the Wizarding world. It gave her comfort to know that not everything to do with her prior world was rejected.

"It's organic," she said slowly. "I don't know, is it some kind of synthetic protein?"

"Unfortunately, Dr Granger," he drawled idly. "I have never seen it before either." He flicked his wand at the wall showing two separate pictures of dead bodies. "But here it is again in Pomfrey, Essex, and again in Shamrock, Ireland."

Hermione watched him. "Do you have a theory?"

Finally, something she'd said had amused him as he gave her an odd lilting grin. "I have plenty of theories, Doctor Granger."

He stalked closer to her and sneered down at her, his very being making her feel uncomfortable. "Maybe what you can explain to me is why it's Ministry policy to label these cases as "unexplained phenomenon" and ignore them." He paused, and his eyes took on an odd gleam. "Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?"

His last words were whispered somewhat eerily, and Hermione smiled at the man's theatrics.

"Logically, I would have to say "no.""

Snape sighed, his face set half in expectation of her answer and half disappointment.

Hermione felt forced to continue, taking her father's science fiction movies to heart. "Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed a spacecraft's capabilities th..."

"Conventional wisdom," he interrupted again. "You know this Hogsmeade female? She's the fourth person in her graduating class of Hogwarts to die under mysterious circumstances. Now, when convention, potions and even your Muggle science offer us no answers, might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?"

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline and Hermione folded her arms, her temper getting the better of her with this ridiculous theory and line of questioning. There was obviously a mystery afoot and there was nothing that she liked better than mystery. But that was not to say that it was down to little grey men from the Reticulan Galaxy.

"The girl obviously died of something," she snapped. "If it was natural causes, it's plausible that there was something missed in the Medi-witch documentation. If she was murdered, it's plausible there was a sloppy investigation. What I find fantastic is any notion that there are answers beyond the realm of potions and, indeed, my Muggle science. The answers are there," she finished confidently, "you just have to know where to look.

He grinned, a full-blown grin now, and it almost took her breath away as he answered. "That's why they put the 'I' in 'M.O.I.' See you tomorrow morning, Granger, bright and early. We leave for the very plausible town of Hogsmeade at eight A.M." He turned on his heel., his robes billowing behind him as he swept over to the potions lab on the other side of the office.

It seemed she had been dismissed.

Hermione caught her breath as he walked away. Damn, his very presence was overpowering in its intensity, and she had the feeling that she had just passed a test that she wasn't even certain that she had taken.

_Well,_ she thought as she turned to leave, _at least this assignment won't be boring._

* * *

_with thanks to my beta- Phaet. _


End file.
